


Demons in the Closet

by eheal04



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) - Freeform, Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor and Charlie Friends, Alastor attempts to help Charlie, Alastor gives misguided advice, Alastor implies he hides his emotions, Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is a closeted sweetheart, Alastor is also kinda a sweetheart, Alastor is concerned for Charlies mental wellbeing, Alastor is numb, Alastor secretly cares for Charlie, Angel Dust Being Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Bisexual Charlie Magne, Can be viewed as Chalastor but also just be platonic, Charlie Magne (Hazbin Hotel) - Freeform, Charlie has anxiety and depression, Charlie is actually hella powerful, Charlie is losing control of her demonic side, Charlie is numb, Charlie is vulnerable, Charlie shuts off emotions, Dark Charlie, Demons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fear, Good Friend Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Horny Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), I really need to introduce nifty, I write every flowery, Indifferent Charlie, Kinda, M/M, Minor Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Protective Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Sexual Humour, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Swearing, Trauma, Vaggie - Freeform, Vaggie and Charlie are (sadly) not dating, Vaggie doesn't like Alastor, Vaggie is So Done (Hazbin Hotel), Very into figurative language, character developement, learning to embrace inner demons, vulnerability and trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28663254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eheal04/pseuds/eheal04
Summary: As the success of the Happy Hotel continued to flourish with new guests who sought redemption, Charlie found herself struggling with more than just the occasional scuffle of sinners. Consumed with bubbling anxieties and fears, as well as the frequent circumstances, she felt herself coming undone, fraying at the seams. Whilst old habits die hard, demonic instincts die harder– and as far as she was aware, she wasn't dying anytime soon.In her calamity, the ever-so eager Radiodemon offers her some misguided advice– to say the very least. In each others company, revelations occur and emotions are buried, how will Alastor take to the 'new and improved' Charlie?And just what will he do to get the charming demon belle back?A/N: I seriously suck at summaries so just give it a lil read ;)
Relationships: Alastor & Charlie Magne, Alastor/Charlie Magne, Angel Dust & Charlie Magne, Angel Dust/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	1. All Things Die and Decay

**Author's Note:**

> Hey just wanted to thank you for giving my fic a read, definitely means a lot considering my summary is literal (not figurative) rubbish.
> 
> Anyways, the second part will be posted soon.

An acrid burning licked the air, embracing her lungs with the throbbing quiver of its blazing lips– brimstone. A collage of death and darkness staining the sky, a hodgepodge of scarlet, crimson and fire, split only by tendrils of black smog and darkness. The daunting–yet picturesque– scene a painting of ruptured veins, seams fraying and ripping until they’re blackened and emptied, until all colour just bleeds and bleeds, until all that is left is marooned-decay. 

And like decay, it would stir, fester and consume– unless it was cut from the root, reaped of all disease and infection. But how could Charlie be separated from veins that ran so deep, from desires and instincts that demanded to be acknowledged? She couldn’t, despite all her efforts to demolish the malevolent darkness that resided. She smiled, laughed and radiated effervescent joy and goodness, and yet– she still couldn’t find a light to combat, or even mirror her inner corruption. A garden that yearned for life, a garden that hoped to flourish the most wonderful of colours, a menagerie of purples and pinks, the brightest yellows to the darkest blues– but such flowers couldn’t grow in diseased soil. 

No amount of light could change that. 

Clinging to the balustrade, her soft grip tightened, her knuckles growing bone-white as soft palms dug deeper into sharp metal. Her clenched jaw threatened to unhinge, her throat tightening as blistering embers rose higher, each charring graze urging her to release, urging her breath to fuel the bubbling inferno below. 

That’s it… give in…

But she wouldn’t, she’d blatantly refused. Charlie couldn’t lessen her grasp more than she already had– she’d given it enough space and power in her denial. They’d both just burn and burn and burn, hellfire melting skin from bone, turning bones to ash, leaving nothing but simmering embers in its wake. 

“You seemed troubled, my dear.” A thick southern voice declared, the sound entwined with the thrum of television static. The red-clad demon’s heels tapping against the wooden floorboards as he stepped closer.

Clamping her jaw tighter, her sharpened teeth pierced her cheeks, the ruby liquid engulfing her mouth with its metallic odour, leaving the coppery taste to linger along the edge of her tongue. Slowly, she relieved herself a breath, pushing the wildfire as deep as she could urge with a single gasp. 

“Just stress, Alastor.” The Princess reassured, glancing up at him with a small smile, but her tired eyes and uneven breath didn’t go unnoticed to the Radiodemon– in fact the scene was too mesmerising to not catch his eye.

“Hmm, I’d never believe stress to awaken such destructive tendencies from someone as unabashedly joyful as yourself.” Alastor chided, his eyes sardonically glancing from hers to her hands, a knowing smirk dancing shamelessly along the curve of his lips.

Gazing down, Charlie was confronted with a strange combination of sheer panic, embarrassment and disgraced fury. The sharp balustrade that had seemed to have tempted her fingers with warnings of danger, had now been reduced to nothing more than a mangled piece of metal, each twisted and disfigured curve matching the deathly grip of her hands. And whilst, the banister had surely been left mutilated, her petite palms and fingertips were left unscathed.

Look at what you can do… at the destruction you can cause…

She’d stay in control. She’d never let in come to that. But her control would wear away, eroded by this hellish creature, in spite of how strong she had held, in spite of everything she had hoped to accomplish, in spite of everything she had wished to heal. 

“Displays of emotion are quite frequent and regular with your character; however, I must say,” the demon shook his head, as if to chastise himself,

“this newfound rage, is quite intriguing, my dear.” As the curve of his elbow slightly touched her forearm in his entertainment, she exasperatedly sighed.

Whilst Alastor was brazen in the sheer enjoyment of the mess that was unfolding before his very eyes, a small, but present–much to his dismay– part of him understood her, not that he would ever admit it. There was always something so very fascinating about the charming demon belle– she was looking to reform the scum of the world, was she not?– but he could never quite distinguish the haze that laid dormant in her eyes, a haze so familiar he was sure he’d seen it before. And he had, every so often when he chose to look in mirror. 

“Such emotions do not tend best being confined, my dear.” He softly spoke, an uncharacteristically small smile gracing his lips as those seemingly attentive words fell out.

Exactly… let it all go… roam free..

“It’s there Alastor, it’s always there.” Charlie murmured, her voice cracking slightly as her unspoken terror was released. The deafening clash and clang of her heartbeat setting fire to the rain of frustration that threatened to fall from glazed eyes, her hands roughly kneading the tight flesh of her neck in futile attempts to call herself down. 

“What is there, my darling?” The Radiodemon pushed, fuelling the fire with gusts of feigned ignorance.

Her brows furrowed and smooth face creased, her jaw completely taunt and eyes burning with a bitterness that brushed away the yellow mist of her eyes only to bring forth a greater enemy that was bathed in red.

“This… this rot.” Her voice deeper than it’s usually sickeningly sweet tone. 

“Well, while we do have differing perspectives– why do you consider this feeling to be so repulsive?” 

What’s so… repulsive… about your destiny…

“It destroys everything, abso-fucking-lutely everything, Alastor.” Cinders burst at the ends of her blonde locks, sending each strand of hair to ripple in its unwavering heat, red horns protruding through the silky tuffs of her hair with a vengeance so clear that Alastor had almost stepped back. And her benevolent smile flaunted such an abundance of razor-edged teeth that it could be considered nothing but malicious. 

He was stupefied. The demon who had probably been witness– and assailant– to the most horrific and irredeemable crimes that hell had yet to see from another in centuries, was undoubtedly bewildered at the sight before him. 

“There isn’t a single damned thing I can feel without this, this rot. It just eats and eats and eats.” She wails, her clawed nails ravaged through her hair, each scrape and scratch drawing shallow blood, blotches of scarlet and crimson eating away at her blonde as it bled.  
“And I’m tired, I am so fucking tired of fighting it Alastor–“

Gently, Alastor caressed her face, the pad of his thumb slowly rubbing against the red of her cheeks, woefully he smiled, before speaking, “then stop.”

Those who resided in hell–Alastor included–didn’t truly understand the raw power that she could wield, often reducing her to nothing but a crazed woman on a literal hell-bent idea. She was an apex predator, and yet she’d tame all others as if they were all but docile prey– the irony of it all was not wasted on her.

“If you shut it off, it gets easier, Charlie.” They both stared at one another, fully entranced in the others presence. 

“It gets easier.” He reassured–more so to himself– his eyes pulling apart from her now regular gaze, her horns no longer peering through her locks, her smile–albeit small– no longer overcrowded with rows of serrated teeth. 

“It gets easier.” As she repeated those three words, Alastor saw the storm of emotions fade into darkness, leaving all vibrance and light to be leached, leaving him looking into a vacant stare– and that to be quite frank, unsettled the Radiodemon.

It was like looking into a gaze that resembled too much of his own.

“Easier.” She smiled; however, as Alastor found his eyes wandering each curve and cut of her soft face, he was again bombarded with realisations–and feelings– that both disquieted and disturbed him. For whilst it was entirely in Charlies nature to smile such lovely and outrageously large smiles– neither of which could be used to describe this manner; her smile too small (for Charlie) and reserved, and those eyes…

Something just wasn’t quite right. Perhaps it was that there was too many teeth present despite how small of an expression, or maybe how the blank look in her eyes just looked unnatural and disjointed to her eery smile.

In the span of a mere second, something had snapped, as if she simply turned off a switch, and despite Alastor’s previous feelings towards the emerging entertainment that was indefinite to arise, he was unsure if this drastic change in his partner was one that he wanted to watch. 

And unlike Charlie, he hadn’t a switch to change the channel.


	2. When The Hunter Becomes The Hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys, I've decided that to really show some decent character development and the underlying meaning of the fic, that it needs to be longer. So, yes it's gonna be more than 2 chapters. But it will still be relatively short. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you like it. This chapter really leans on dialogue so in advance... sorry :)

A sinister silence devoured the air in sharp swallows, hungrily gorging on each fragment of light that prevailed through the dark, exhaling beasts made from shadows and menace. A spiteful wind brushed and nipped through the eerie stillness, interweaving through its obscure embrace in a synchronised movement, a dance of impervious passions. An abysmal rendition of the original Hotel. There was no bright neons lights that flaunted a welcoming warmth–with the inclusion of an outrageous headache– nor was there the large banners that called for nothing but attention and comfort. There was no…Charlie. It was all too dim and too minimal, completely lacking the touch of heart that possessed nothing but glitter, complex musical numbers and a too much gene that could embellish the entirety of Hell with a glue gun and all too much colour.

The spider demon noticed that much– although, it took him longer to realise it than he’d care to admit. In fact, Angel couldn’t remember the last time he saw the Princess–let alone heard from her–and the nosy (worrying) part of him couldn’t help but wonder what made her go awol. 

Sauntering into the Lobby, Angel was immediately eased by the overwhelming reek of cheep bourbon and cigarettes, the avian feline concentrating heavily on the cards before him, whilst lazily swigging at the bottle of rum at his right. 

“Hey Kitty.” The spider demon quietly lulled in his ear, a suggestive smile cruising along his face as his heart continued to thrum loudly in his ears.

“Call me kitty, one more time and I’ll fuck you up, got it?” Husker threatened, his left eye twitching despite his focus on the solitaire game. Angel dust only moaned in reply, erotically whispering,

“is that a promise, Kitty? ‘Cause I’ll hold ya’ to that.” Sprawling along the top of the bar, his clawed fingertips reaching to caress his silky fur before slowly retreating at the sound of television static and upbeat humming. Slyly looking back at Husk, he winked before picking up one of the rolled cigarettes, only to then hesitantly put it down as it touch his lips. 

“My, my, I’d wish I’d say it were a surprise to see the two of you here, but frankly it isn’t!” The Radiodemon animatedly roared, the sound of recorded laughter following soon after.   
“Heya Smiles, where’s Charlie? It’s been dead without tha’ broad ta’ livin’ things up.” Angel slouched into the side of the bar, his legs neatly crossed over one another as he stared at the Radiodemon, his eyebrows slightly arched, as if to sus out whether or not the psychopathic murder had anything to do with her sudden disappearance. 

No, surely not– he’s only deranged and has tendencies to be completely homicidal. 

“Fuck, ya’ didn’t kill toots, did ya’, Al?” He mocked, paying no heed or attention to the slight discomfort in Alastors smile nor the strengthen in his grip on the microphone staff. 

“Hmm, no, I like the sweetheart far too much to simply dispose of her,” Alastors freakishly cheerful voice bombarded with glee, all to waver into distortion. His eyes fading into a scarlet river, his small antlers glooming in gnarled pieces like that of an ancient tree, and his voice a threatening contortion of peril and warning spoke, 

“You however, find yourself to be in a much different position.” His twisted smile grew and grew, revealing all too many teeth for such a narrow grin. Angel loudly gulped in apprehension, knowing that the task would be all too simple for the Radiodemon, and whilst he knew–or at the very least, believed– that Alastor wouldn’t immediately hurt him, Angel wouldn’t push any further to risk it. 

“Though the little darling will surely be pleased to know you’re fretting over her absence.” The deer demon mused, only to receive Angels middle finger and rolled eyes in return. 

The fast click, click, clicking of heels echoed throughout the lobby followed by the quiet murmur of humming– a familiar tune, one that Angel was sure he’d heard. A tall silhouette of red eyes burned through the darkness, the slight glow growing brighter as it continued to walk closer to the light. Erupting from shadows embrace, marked the very demon that had vanished.

“Toots where ya’ been? The place is a fuckin’ mess without ya’.” Angel chided, shaking his head in an ‘I’m disappointed’ manner.

“Let me guess; ya’ got fuckin’ wasted on liquor and mollie, and were high as a fuckin’ kite for tha’ last week?” He sniggered knowingly, chuckling inwards at the thought of little Miss Redemption stumbling drunkly and acting wild on acid– a far fetched guess, but a possible one nonetheless. 

And whilst he entirely expected a very embarrassed flush from the bubbly Princess, Angel certainly couldn’t help but feel slightly uneasy as she stared blankly back at him. No flushing cheeks. No mortified stare. No anxious smile.

What the fuck is up?

“Unfortunately not that exciting Angie, just doing some soul-searching.” She hummed, her gaze moving from his directly to the Radiodemon only to immediately return.

“Ah, lookin’ for some new recruits or somethin’?” Angel asked dully as his attention returned to Husker and the offered cocktail.

“Something like that.” A small smile graced her lips as the word ‘something’ fell out, one that Alastor had yet to see from Charlie– unnerving, and slightly nefarious. And whilst, if it were anyone else, he’d think nothing of it– just demons being demons– but it wasn’t anyone else. 

Inching closer towards the demon belle, he couldn’t help but stare. Alastor had throughly enjoyed and encouraged the rage and the fire and the flames– she’d never shown such displays of tumultuous emotions, so how could he not find the entire experience fascinating?– but this, devoid shell of a demon, was far less entertaining and all the more concerning. 

In his conflict, the ever occurring smile that he so theatrically flaunted, faltered, evoking a light-hearted– yet very much snarky– remark to arise,

“Smile Alastor, you’re never fully dressed without one, you know.” And she smiled. Alastor was completely off-put by her biting tone–and a little bit turned on– as not only did she speak in such dark undertones, not a single thing about it– her tone, her nature, her speech– remotely resembled Charlie. 

“Looks like tha’ ‘little darling’ drank her bitch juice this mornin’.” Angel snickered while casually sipping his love potion cocktail, his fingers mixing the toothpicked raspberries around the rim of the glass as he stared lustfully at the feline. 

“Mm, and it’s never tasted quite this sweet.” Licking her fingers ostentatiously, her tongue popped loudly as she slowly removed each fingertip from her mouth, her smile sickeningly syrupy as she grinned, her elongated fangs much more pronounced, resembling a starved predator on the hunt for prey. 

And as he glanced back into her eyes, those wondrous eyes that had found such marvelling beauty in a place that birthed such sin, he was shocked to find that those eyes that sought such flourishing splendour were no longer there. And for the first time in Alastors existence in purgatory, the acclaimed Radiodemon felt threatened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like it give me some kudos, and a comment. If you don't, why the hell did you finish the chapter lmao?


	3. Belladonna's Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is basically both Vaggie and Alastor fighting over Charlie, and Charlie gives off major 'American Psycho' vibes so that's fun.

Orange flames stained the the red sea above, the warm light of its almost pastel and coppery tinge dancing with the ripples of blackened scarlet. Each roll and roar of the eternal fire gasping shuddered breaths as it lowered and hushed, only to rise again against nights stir. Its inferno unbroken despite the ruination of the sky, leaving each shattered splinter to melt and bleed into the clouds, becoming scarlet blotches on a canvas made only of sulphuric air and ash. 

“Mother of Satan, you’re okay!” Cool fingertips snaked their way along the curve of Charlies waist, her arms slightly shaking and tightening as the demon inhaled. A coral pink bow drooped slight, as she dug her face deeper into the confines of Charlie’s chest.  
“Charlie you can’t just ditch and leave! I didn’t even know until Angel– of all demons– told me!” The moth demon berated as she flailed her arms about, her rampant hair falling flat and heavy as its fury dimmed.

“Please don’t scare me like that again.” The smaller demon whispered as she held tightly to the pink cotton fabric of Charlies tuxedo blazer. Charlie remained silent, before she tiresomely spoke, 

“I’ve been planning Vaggie, thinking that we should try a new approach– something that no one can ignore.” Whilst prying the smaller demons hands from her waist, Charlie stepped back, her gaze leaving Vaggie’s to collide with armed battle of scarlet and fire, entirely too mesmerised by the sky’s own cataclysmic destruction to notice the moth demons shift in demeanour. 

“We’ve sang our songs, Vag, now is the time for action– to give them a show that they cannot afford to miss.” Her fingers slightly cupping the soft petal of the violet iris, only to tempt her fingers at the stem. 

“The prince thought we were a joke, Charlie. And that’s with the added improvements of; improved accommodation, and therapy, as well as the development from our patrons. I doubt-“

“Prince? I thought we planned to discuss the redemption project with all seven?” The Princess eyed questioningly at her partner, her manner becoming stiff as she folded her arms and moved further from Vaggies touch. 

Vaggie quietened as she completely took in her friend, her eye wandering slowly up at her figure. Her posture far too rigid and straight, her eyebrow quirked in a manner that Vaggie was certain was foreign to someone as polite and pleasantly charming as Charlie Magne, and her eyes far too dull and uncaring to be hers. Everything was much too cold, too void. And that chilling fact, was too quickly challenged as Vaggie’s fury ignited in sputtering flames of ember and ash, her tongue spitting a hellish inferno as she yelled, 

“Yeah, it was. But you know what wasn’t planned? You fucking off to Lucifer knows where, doing who the fuck knows what, and waltzing back as if it wasn’t a fucking problem!” 

The moth demon would rage and rage and rage, and yet the Princess hadn’t stirred in the slightest– she had looked more amused, if anything. Her eyes–though unrelenting in its dazed expression– had left Vaggies, to return once again to the violet iris. 

“Everything I do, think and feel, is for the hotel– to better the lives of my sinners. To clean and help my people towards happiness and redemption. Question my elusive methods? Fine, I don’t care. But there isn’t anything I wouldn’t sacrifice to repair the balance.” The Princess spoke dully whilst slowly stoking the tinge of yellow that kissed along the bud of the iris, as if what she’d said hadn’t terrified Vaggie to her core. 

“Such determination is truly inspiring, my dear.” The abrupt noise of television static and loud applauding, startling the Moth demon so harshly that she awkwardly yelped and jolted, where Charlie seemed to remain aloof and completely uninterested in both Vaggies alarm and Alastors arrival. 

“Alastor.” Vaggie uninterestingly greeted. 

“A pleasure to see your return, Vagatha.” The Radiodemon hummed, his eyes and wide smile too fixed on the Princess to notice the Moth demons visible rage.

“I’ll leave you both to enjoy the sunset, there’s cleaning to do.” Charlie lightly smiled, her eyes meeting both Vaggies and Alastors, her fingers slowly disentangling from the small cord of the green stem as she calmly left the balcony.

Faintly the Radiodemon sighed, his–albeit small– heart easing as she left without another word. But as his attention began to wane, his gaze shifted to the iris that she was consumed by, taking it’s violet petals that held a stroke of white and ring of yellow close to it’s bud, its light floral scent and earthen undertones noticed by the unlikeliest of duos. Such a rare occurrence– for a flower like that of the iris to bloom in such horrific conditions, Alastor having remember his Mother’s likeness towards all things green found its flourishing– in hell of all places– ironic. And though, the fond memories of his Mother’s berating of the ‘importance of such flowers’ set his heart aglow, all shattered as the hope began to decay; the rich petals of life, wrinkling as death and darkness stole it away.

No… not death or darkness.

“What did you do?!” The small demon shrieked, her smouldering eyes staring at him so intently Alastor thought he might catch fire from her glare alone.

“Oh dear, how you wound me? Why must you assume that I was caught up in your little spat?” Alastor spoke as he feigned offence. His ever-eager grin slightly hesitant as he saw the moth demon’s expression fade from the burning rage to a panicking fret. 

And Alastor–though being completely familiar and at ease with the blistering temper and outrage of his ‘friends’ and enemies alike–was bombarded with distress when he evoked the antithesis appeal. Where their curses of rage and gazes of fury were his norm, the tears and the sadness left him feeling naked and unsure– two things that Alastor blatantly refused to feel and be associated as. 

“I helped her out, offered some advice for her cumbersome problem.” The Radiodemon explained as he avoided Vaggie’s gaze.

“HELPED?! Whatever the fuck you did, did the damned opposite!” She screeched, her gloved hands racking through her white hair like you would scrape through weeds, prodding and pulling and twisting and tearing. Her teeth vicious as they threatened to shred her bottom lip with its piercing edge. 

“What the fuck did you say to her! Or did you use some of your voodoo bullshit because you thought it’d be fun-“

“She couldn’t handle it Vaggie, she couldn’t handle what she was becoming. So I told her to shut it off.” The Radiodemon confessed, his voice so unlike itself, that Vaggie had half a thought to be sympathetic; but all too was she reminded that he was the reason that they were in this fucking mess. 

“You’re talking about her as if she’s some monster-“

“You’re a fool if you think her to be all petals and leaves. You’re all too enamoured with her delicious scent and wondrous beauty to realise she’s the worlds sweetest poison.” His chuckle devoid of humour and all too filled with disastrous realisations, too aware of the bane that was forged with his own two hands. 

“You forget that the most toxic poisons are what make the cure, Alastor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it, if not then wtf did you finish it lmao? Since ur here, might as well give me a kudos (btw what the actual hell is a kudos? Do people actually say 'kudos'? and wtf doesn't italics work?) Thanks


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